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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26364382">Attachment</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_d/pseuds/mrs_d'>mrs_d</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dead Ends [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Demon Ryan Bergara, Gen, M/M, Or -- attempts at soul selling, Ouija, Pre-Slash, Recreational Drug Use, Rock N Roll Buckaroo is unfortunately not legally binding, Soul Selling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:28:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,589</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26364382</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_d/pseuds/mrs_d</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan — that isn’t really his name — has never had a target like this. </p><p>Well, he has. Big guy? Check. Big ego? Check check. Big mouth? Check check checkity check. But even though he has these features in common with Ryan’s past targets, it’s usually a hell of a lot easier (pun intended) to get a guy like Shane Madej to sell his soul.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ryan Bergara &amp; Shane Madej, Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dead Ends [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1113687</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was supposed to be much longer, but I lost the thread back in February, so I decided to wrap it up and post what I had.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ryan — that isn’t really his name — first encounters Shane in a toy store, of all places. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan is hanging around the Ouija boards, just cruising, invisible to the human eye, as he tends to do when he finds himself without strict instructions from Below. He waves to a couple of children who happen to see him and gives a man of the cloth a chill as he walks by, because why the fuck wouldn’t he? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s about ready to give up and go back to the Pit — because nobody is even looking at the Ouija boards — when Shane walks in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan doesn’t know his name yet, obviously. To Ryan, he’s just a tall young man, skinny with long legs and a face that looks barely old enough for the scruff that he’s probably calling a beard. Still, creative energy radiates from him; he oozes pride and charisma. Clearly, this soul has a bright future, and if Ryan had a mouth in this form, it would be watering. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Shane isn’t alone, and he isn’t sober. In fact, no one in his little group is. Their pupils huge and shiny like polished onyx, the four twenty-somethings wander into the aisle that’s playing host to Ryan and one of the most dangerous objects ever manufactured.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The foursome splits up without discussion, Shane and a woman pausing together. On one side of the aisle, she picks up some dolls, muttering something about her younger cousin. On the other side, Shane plays with turtle action figures and makes no such excuses. The other man in their group — short and stocky with dark hair — leaves the aisle entirely, and their fourth friend passes right through Ryan on her way to pick up a Ouija board. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ha!” she shouts. “Told you they’d have it here!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course they do,” says Shane, still making the turtles attack each other. “It’s a toy, Becky, and this is a toy store, so—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not a toy,” says Becky. “It’s a tool.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other woman sets down the dolls. “Can I see?” she asks, coming over.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure, Pam.” Becky hands her the Ouija board carefully, like it’s an ancient relic that requires special care. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, Ryan thinks, it kind of is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are we really gonna do this?” asks Pam, stroking the box in that way that people under the influence often touch things unconsciously. She is wearing all black, with heavy makeup accenting her green eyes. “It’s so dangerous.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not dangerous,” says the young man who’d left a moment ago. He has reappeared with two plastic light-up rods in his hands. He holds one in Shane’s direction. “But these are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Brandon,” Pam scolds, but Shane cries, “Yes!” and abandons the turtle action figures at once. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After bowing, Brandon and Shane hack at each other with the plastic swords, making sound effects with their voices. They spin and dip, dive and dodge. The others watch and roll their eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brandon gives an exaggerated, over-the-head swing. Shane crouches down, throws up his sword to block and its tip catches the edge of a display of ugly animatronic red bears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, shit,” says Shane. He tries to catch a few of the bears as they fall, but his reaction is too slow, and he ends up hitting a couple with his hands and sending them flying even further.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Each toy, when its box hits the floor, starts giggling and squirming, creating a cacophony of squeaks and whirs as their little feet wriggle. The four friends start laughing and can’t seem to stop. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god,” Shane gasps, doubled over. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are there so many Elmos?” cries Brandon, leaning on him for support. “There’s too many Elmos, we’ve hit peak Elmo!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guys, guys,” Becky tries to say, to calm them down. She picks one of the toys up, but it shakes and laughs in her hands. She shrieks and drops it. It giggles more, writhing on the cement floor, its oversized eyes reflecting the fluorescent lights overhead.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, a store employee shows up to glare at them, and Pam sets the Ouija board down near Ryan. She starts to clean up the fallen toys, even though she hasn’t caught her breath yet, and tears are running down her cheeks, smearing black makeup in wavering lines over her skin. The others, still huffing, join in a moment later.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Amused and intrigued, Ryan makes a decision. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He reaches out and touches the Ouija board box with two fingers. The sigil glows bright red for a second before sinking into the board. Immediately, the air around him hums as every spirit in the vicinity pokes its nose out of its metaphysical hidey-hole and sniffs the air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Go ahead,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ryan tells them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You know what I want you to do. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The humans don’t notice, of course. They finish tidying up the aisle, meek but still laughing under the watchful eyes of the employee. Becky picks up the Ouija board again, and mutters an apology as she passes. Ryan drifts alongside her towards the exit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The others are past the check-out before they realize that Becky has lagged behind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seriously?” says Brandon. “You’re really gonna waste your money on that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve always wanted one,” Becky replies with a shrug. The cashier hands her the board and her change, and Becky joins the rest. “Besides,” she adds in a lower voice, “I’m just stoned enough to think this is a good idea.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not a good idea,” Shane says, stern and serious for one breath before he breaks into a huge grin. “It’s a great idea!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shane,” says Brandon, and in that moment, Ryan learns Shane’s name. “You don’t seriously believe this shit, do you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course not, B-Dog,” Shane laughs. “It’s all a load of hooey.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is not,” says Pam, dabbing at her ruined makeup with a tissue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pam’s right,” says Becky. “But I still want to try it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then let’s go,” Shane says, way too loud. He spins towards the exit door, surprisingly steady on his overly long legs. “Let’s scrounge us up some </span>
  <em>
    <span>ghosts!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His friends laugh and follow him. And, of course, Ryan does, too.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Ryan really thought it’d be easy. Humans aren’t that complicated. He’s observed them for hundreds of years, and he’s come to see them the way that humans see the money machines they insist on putting up on every street corner nowadays. Humans insert a card into a machine and take out pieces of paper that have arbitrarily-assigned value amounts. Similarly, Ryan inserts fear into a human and takes out a soul, whose value is often far from arbitrary.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s got it down to a science after all these years. He starts by waking up the spirits, who act out and put the humans on edge. Knocks, footsteps, whispers — anything to make them think they’re not alone, bring their unspoken fears a little closer to the surface. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan’s favorite targets are people who think they don’t have these fears. They think they’re tough. Ryan loves to break them, and he gives his army of spirits explicit instructions not to mess with these humans. Better that they think their wives or boyfriends or kids are the ones at risk, rather than they themselves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a few months, even though they don’t believe in what’s happening, they’re scared, because their loved ones are scared. Slowly, the frustration at their powerlessness grows. And then they get angry. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’ll yell at an empty room. Perhaps they’ll even punch a wall. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You want to hurt my wife? My kids? Why don’t you come after me, you big coward!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And, oh, how Ryan loves them fightin’ words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At this point, he steps in and does what the ghosts can’t do. He enacts physical harm to the more vulnerable members of the target’s house, leaving them with bruises, scratches and nightmares, while the target themself remains untouched. Before long, they’re within reach of Ryan’s grasp, and ready to snap like frayed twine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few more weeks of unexplained phenomena, and finally the target says something colossally stupid, like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Leave them alone, take me instead!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So Ryan does.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Even stoned, Shane’s friends notice the spirits that Ryan has summoned. Minutes after the planchette moves to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span> — in response to Pam’s Pink Floyd-inspired question, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is there anybody out there?</span>
  </em>
  <span> — a knock sounds on the living room wall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shane blames the neighbors; Ryan huffs quiet laugh. Easy, he thinks again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you tell me your name?” Becky asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The planchette roves over the board, slowly and steadily. “P-A-T-” Becky spells out loud, “R-I-C-K. Patrick.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or maybe it’s Pat, and his good buddy Rick,” suggests Brandon. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky rolls her eyes and ignores him. “Nice to meet you, Patrick, I’m Becky.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The planchette continues to move, though this time without a specific direction. “Why is it still moving?” Pam wonders. “We didn’t even ask anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s called the ideomotor effect,” Shane explains. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ideo-what now?” asks Pam.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ideomotor,” Shane repeats. He takes his hand off the planchette and pushes his glasses up on his nose. Given how goggle-eyed he is, Ryan is surprised he can still see. “It’s when your body moves without your knowledge or permission.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not a thing,” Brandon protests. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, it is,” Shane replies, but Brandon cuts across him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your body doesn’t just do things without you knowing about them!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah?” says Shane. “When the doctor hits your knee with his little hammer, do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>decide</span>
  </em>
  <span> to kick your leg out, or does it just do it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s a reflex, that’s different,” Pam chimes in. Her eyes don’t leave the board, though, so Ryan directs the spirit to give the planchette a tiny nudge back towards </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “See? Patrick agrees with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then Patrick failed freshman bio,” Shane counters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shane!” Becky exclaims, while Pam laughs. “Don’t make fun of the ghost!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But this isn’t a reflex,” Brandon says, one step behind the conversation. “Nothing’s hitting my arm to make it move.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, so it’s not a reflex,” Shane admits. “But your body can still react a certain way just by thinking of something. You don’t consciously decide to produce more saliva when you think about sucking on a lemon, but it happens anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, what, </span>
  <em>
    <span>we’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> moving it?” asks Pam.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Scientifically speaking? Yes,” Shane answers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Scientifically speaking,” Brandon echoes, crossing his arms across his chest, “you’re an asshole.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shane laughs out loud. “There’s plenty of evidence to support that,” he concedes. “But look, what’s more likely: that your body sets off random chemical and electrical impulses that result in involuntary motion, or that a ghost moved through your hands just now, to deliver a frankly underwhelming message?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You get so pretentious when you’re stoned,” Pam mutters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t care how likely it is,” Becky declares. “I think it’s a ghost, and you’re just being stubborn.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe,” says Shane. He shifts into a reclining position on the floor, stretching out his long legs. “I kinda hope you’re right. If there’s a ghost here,” he says, raising his voice, “prove me wrong. Show me something real. If you give me something real, I’ll—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan feels the beginning of a powerful tingle that washes over him whenever a deal is imminent. He’d known it would be easy, but could it really be</span>
  <em>
    <span> this</span>
  </em>
  <span> easy?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll— oh, never mind, I don’t know,” Shane finishes with a wheezy chuckle. “I’m high as fuck.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rolls fully onto his back and laughs at the ceiling. The others laugh, too, and Brandon puts his hands back on the planchette, gesturing that Becky and Pam should do the same. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Patrick,” Brandon begins seriously. “Is my friend too high to talk to ghosts?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shane props himself up on one elbow to watch the planchette — without any supernatural help — slide back over to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, that proves it,” he announces. “Ghosts have ears!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Patrick, will Shane ever believe in ghosts?” Becky asks the board, struggling to keep a straight face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan extends just the tiniest fraction of his power, and the planchette swings violently to </span>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At once, the energy in the room changes. Everyone falls silent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whoa,” says Pam after a moment. “Did you feel that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brandon and Becky both nod. “That wasn’t an idiot-motor thingy,” says Becky.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, it was,” Shane mutters, but no one except Ryan seems to hear him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Patrick, was that you?” Becky asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At a look from Ryan, the spirit that’s been posing as Patrick keeps the planchette still, but a sudden tapping sound makes the humans — even Shane — raise their heads in surprise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you hear that?” whispers Pam.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” says Shane, looking uncharacteristically serious. “It’s almost like... a ghost is... tapping on the floor with a quarter he had in his pocket,” he concludes, grinning like a lunatic and displaying the quarter he’d been tapping behind his back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone groans. Pam whacks Shane on the arm. Shane laughs, loud and free.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan has a fleeting thought that maybe he likes this human— though, probably, he’ll like breaking him a lot more. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes, it’s simpler than you might think to get a human to give up their soul. Sometimes, a human willingly makes a deal with a demon for power, wealth, or fame — taking a shortcut through Hell to get somewhere that years of hard work and good luck can’t lead them. Politicians are the ones most likely to bargain, naturally, though creative types will sometimes give up anything — and everything — to experience worldly success. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Less often, a human summons a demon by accident and proposes a deal without realizing it. To them, it seems like they’ve stumbled into something too good to be true: success, love, fortune. Only later, when the payment comes due, do they realize what’s happened. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan has no sympathy for any humans, but especially not these ones. They wear their hearts on their sleeves, they talk about themselves to anyone who’ll listen, they brag and whine and cry and beg for things to be better — and after it’s happened, they have the audacity to stand at Hell’s gate and claim that it isn’t fair? Ha.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One time, Ryan was summoned to Nevada in late July because a man actually said out loud that he would sell his soul for an air conditioner. A few minutes later, the man drove by an appliance store that he thought had always been there. The store’s only staff member was a young man with a bright smile and kind eyes, and a nametag that read </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ryan. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Pit promoted him for that deal, citing his excellent care in choosing a costume that humans would find warm and approachable. He was allowed to keep the form, should he need it again, and the name — the first that came to mind when he materialized into this shape — just sort of stuck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He likes it. It’s useful, if for no other reason than to keep his real name out of the mouths of those who aren’t worthy enough to speak it.   </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>The next morning, Shane is the first of the group to awaken. He moves quietly past the sleeping figures of his two female friends, spread out over the couch and floors, and heads to the kitchen. Ryan hovers over his shoulder, at his side a shy spirit. They watch while Shane puts a pot of coffee on, takes a glass down from the cupboard and turns around to get something from the fridge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The spirit looks imploringly up at Ryan. Ryan nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The glass falls to the floor and shatters with an ear-splitting crash. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Goddammit,” Shane sighs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A rustle in the other room makes him look up from the wreckage on the floor. Becky has appeared in the doorway, rubbing her eyes as she takes in the scene: Shane on one side of the kitchen, the broken glass on the other. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Holy shit,” she says. “Did you throw that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Shane replies, sounding offended, but he quickly redirects into humor. “Why would I— have you seen these noodle arms? I couldn’t throw a ping pong ball that hard. I must have set it down in a puddle of water or something, and it slid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becky gingerly makes her way towards the counter. “It’s dry,” she reports. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Watch your step, there’s glass,” says Shane, like he didn’t hear. “Where the hell is the broom?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Brandon left it on the balcony,” Becky replies. “There was a spider.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shane rolls his eyes and carefully crosses the kitchen to the back door. “How many times do I have to tell him, spiders are good? We need spiders!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re still gross,” Becky calls after him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There was a spider?” says a new voice. Pam has entered the kitchen, her eyes even more smudged with yesterday’s makeup. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No spider,” Becky reports. She waits until Shane has returned with the broom to add, “Ghost threw a glass.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, come on,” Shane, but then he sighs. “Sure, okay. A ghost did it. Big, scary Patrick, throwing shit around again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Is that your name?</span>
  </em>
  <span> the little spirit asks Ryan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Not even close,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he replies.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Becky conveniently forgets her Ouija board at Shane and Brandon’s apartment, and Ryan’s sigil keeps summoning new spirits, like a revolving door to the other side. They make lots of noise, break more items, make others disappear. Shane’s friends stop coming over so often; Brandon, for all that he claims not to believe in the paranormal, sleeps a little less every night, spends a little longer away from home every day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shane, however, is fine. Even after three months, he’s still writing everything off with a rational explanation — to the point that Brandon stops telling him things. Brandon’s isolation feeds Ryan, but Brandon isn’t the one he wants. And the longer Shane keeps his cool, the hungrier Ryan gets, the more he starts ignoring other, easier opportunities. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knows he’s being stubborn, but he sticks around even after Brandon leaves, six months after the Ouija board first arrived. He watches Brandon notice the board on his way out the door, sees him think about saying something to Shane before he changes his mind and walks away. Two curious spirits follow him to the elevator; Ryan lets them go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shane gets a new roommate right away — one who hangs crystals in her windows and keeps a Tarot deck in her bedside table. A true believer, she’s especially vulnerable, and Ryan is hopeful. He asks his army of spirits to start slow with her, planning to build the fear gradually as she and Shane get closer. If Shane comes to care for her, and believes she’s in real danger, this could work out perfectly for Ryan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unfortunately, Shane remains kind but aloof with the new human in his space, and, even more unfortunately, the roommate lasts less than a month in the haunted apartment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She packs her things while Shane is out, and she burns sage all through the apartment, fanning its smoke into every corner. Ryan chuckles at the ritual and sends one of his spirits to knock open a cabinet in the kitchen. The girl leaves in tears ten minutes later. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The apartment sits empty and menacing for the rest of the day. Shane comes home after dark, as he usually does, whistling and singing snatches of an upbeat tune under his breath. He kicks off his shoes and hangs up his keys, then steps into the living room and stops dead in his tracks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From inches away, Ryan studies his expression. Shane looks puzzled and concerned. Ryan starts to hope, but then Shane sniffs the air and sighs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know it was your last day and all,” he mutters, “but come on, May. No smoking weed inside is </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally</span>
  </em>
  <span> my only rule.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He goes around the apartment and opens every window. Ryan trails behind him, unseen, but when Shane stops in front of the balcony door, Ryan lets his true face appear in the glass over his shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shane doesn’t react. Doesn’t turn around, doesn’t shiver. Not one goosebump rises on his skin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryan frowns and dematerializes again. Perhaps he’s going to have to rethink this.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Five human years pass. Ryan stops actively haunting Shane, but he keeps an eye on him. He marks Shane with another sigil, too, so other demons stay away, and so Ryan can always find him if he needs to.</p><p>The Ouija board remains active; Shane goes through several roommates before finally deciding to live alone. With no understanding that the board is enchanted, Shane tries, a few times, to remove it from his apartment. Ryan intervenes every time: Shane forgets to bring it to the donation bin, or it falls out of the box in the back of his car, only to be discovered when he’s unloading groceries a week later. Shane sighs every time, blames himself, and vows to get rid of it the next chance he gets.</p><p>When he leaves Illinois, Shane takes it to Goodwill, and he’s thorough about it. He checks the box three times to make sure the board is in there before he gets in the car; he places the box on the front seat and looks over at every stoplight, like he’s afraid the board will lift itself out (he isn’t, of course, but it’s a funny thought); and he checks the car after he drops the box at the donation bin to make sure the board wasn’t forgotten. </p><p>So when he finds it in a box labelled KITCHEN three weeks later in his new apartment in Los Angeles, his reaction is hilarious, though of course there’s no one there to see it but Ryan.  </p><p>“What the <em> fuck?” </em> he half-shouts. He turns like the board has offended him and he’s going to walk away, but he ends up twirling in a pointless circle before returning to the box with a heavy sigh. </p><p>“Whatever,” he concludes, taking the board out and casting his eyes around for somewhere to put it. “Freud said that when you lose something it’s because subconsciously you want to get rid of it. Freud was a pervert and a misogynist, but maybe the opposite’s true, too. Maybe deep down I’m not done with this thing.”</p><p><em> You’re not, </em> Ryan thinks, though he doesn’t know quite what he’s going to do about it yet.</p><p>Ryan follows him a little more closely after that, and discovers that Shane has moved to the West Coast for a new job, at a corporation so evil that Ryan’s surprised there are no demons involved in upper management. There, he notices that, while Shane is still overflowing with creativity, it’s dulled a little. He’s not living up to his potential — his soul has been tarnished somewhat. </p><p>Ryan leaves Shane where he is for the moment and heads back to the Pit for some regularly scheduled torture. While giving a hedge fund manager countless papercuts, Ryan’s mind is still on Shane. He wants that soul so much he can practically taste it, but more than that, he wants to see Shane in his element, to stand back and watch him shine. </p><p>The hedge fund manager hisses when a tiny drop of blood wells up from the slit on his cheek. Ryan observes the man squirming in his expensive suit and thinks about evil. </p><p>He’s wrong — he doesn’t want Shane to shine; he wants Shane to be in the best possible position before he’s destroyed. That’s what he wants, that’s what all demons want, and it’s strange that Ryan feels like he needs to be reminded of this. </p><p>Some time later, sitting invisibly beside Shane at a bizarre event called a pitch meeting, Ryan has an idea.</p><hr/><p>“No,” Oriax says, when Ryan suggests his new plan. “It’s much too risky.”</p><p>Ryan knows better than to protest the way he wants to; whining never accomplishes much when it comes to negotiations with the big bosses Below. Instead, he nods. </p><p>“No demon has done something like this before,” he says, acknowledging what he knows are the weakest parts of his strategy. “Hell’s policy on what the humans call ghost hunting is strict.”</p><p>“Very strict,” Oriax emphasizes. “The only reason we let them carry on at all is that they never find anything real.”</p><p>“That, and it’s amusing to watch them frighten themselves,” adds Ryan with a sly smile. </p><p>Oriax returns the smile, though it’s quick and furtive. “So you can understand,” she goes on, “why we would opposed to sending one of ours into that minefield. If something real was captured on camera—”</p><p>“That’s the irony of it, though,” Ryan explains. “I’ve observed this man for almost six years now. I’ve presented him with so many signs, yet he doesn’t believe any of it. He is a true resistant.”</p><p>Ryan can tell this catches Oriax’s attention, and he leans in to press his advantage. “This man will not only sell his own soul, but his skepticism can convince others to disbelieve as well. If we make him a star, countless young souls will be less inclined to see the danger we present, and more vulnerable to our manipulations.”</p><p>Oriax gives him a calculating look while running her thumb over the edge of her claws. Ryan waits as patiently as he can while she thinks it over. </p><p>“You’ve presented an intriguing case,” she tells him finally. “Your logic seems sound.”</p><p>Ryan nods, hopeful but not wanting to show it.</p><p>“I’ll have to discuss it with the Big Boss,” she warns.</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“Don’t get your hopes up,” she adds, getting to her feet. Ryan dips his horns in a customary bow. He raises his head a second later when he feels Oriax’s cool fingers under his chin. She is smiling wide, all her teeth on proud display. “It’s a risky idea, but for what it’s worth, you’ve got my vote.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Ryan murmurs. </p><p>She assesses him for one more moment, her eyes searching his. A hint of concern flickers over her face. “Are you certain this is what you want?” she asks. “It’s been centuries since you’ve taken human form for more than a few days.”</p><p>“I’m certain,” Ryan tells her, but her eyes aren’t convinced. </p><p>“You’re changing,” Oriax replies. “You’re not who you were before.”</p><p>Ryan feels a flash of annoyance and resists the urge to step back, to look away. “What’s the point of being immortal if you never evolve?” he asks with a sideways grin that he hopes covers his discomfort. </p><p>“That’s true enough,” says Oriax, stepping back with a pleased expression. “I’ll send your proposition up the chain of command, I’ll let you know what happens.”</p><p>Ryan dips his horns and thanks her again.</p><hr/><p>When he gets clearance to go ahead, it doesn’t take long for his bosses to create the necessary background and build memories. By the time the next pitch meeting rolls around, Ryan, in his pre-approved physical form, is a full-time employee at BuzzFeed, with enough skills in his field to propose the idea of a new show. Upper management — whom Ryan is still half-convinced is on Hell’s payroll somehow — accepts his proposal, and within a week of human time, Ryan has a show. Now he just needs a skeptical co-host.</p><p>“No,” Shane says, when Ryan goes to him first. </p><p>“What do you mean, no?” says Ryan. What he’s really asking is, <em> How are you resisting my influence? </em></p><p>Shane huffs out a surprised breath that’s almost a laugh. “I mean no, Ryan. I don’t know how I can be clearer. I don’t want to host <em> Unsolved.” </em></p><p>“Co-host,” Ryan corrects him. “You’d barely have to do anything. I’ll take care of all the research, the script, the editing. You just have to show up and react.”</p><p>“Well, maybe I don’t want to do that,” Shane counters. </p><p>“Why not?” Ryan puts just a hint of a whine into his voice; most humans, he’s found, can’t ignore that.</p><p>Shane is not most humans. He shrugs. “I don’t know, it just doesn’t sound that interesting to me. Sorry,” he adds, like an afterthought.</p><p>Ryan blames his human form for the emotion he’s feeling — anger, disappointment, and, under both, a raw and stinging hurt. It’s been a long time since anyone, let alone a human, was able to hurt him. </p><p>“Okay, no big,” he forces himself to respond. “I understand, it’s not for everyone.”</p><p>Shane’s eyes flick over Ryan quickly, like he can see Ryan’s upset. “I’m sorry,” he says again, more seriously. “Your show’s gonna be great. I’m just not the right guy for it. I’m more interested in facts. Things that I can see, hear, touch. Conspiracy theories, unsolved mysteries, paranormal stuff — it just doesn’t turn my crank the way it does for you.”</p><p>“That’s fair,” Ryan admits, even as his mind re-calibrates itself based on this new information. “Well, let me know if you change your mind.”</p><p>“I will,” says Shane, but Ryan knows he won’t. </p><hr/><p>The show gets going, and Ryan plays his part — acting scared, suggesting the impossible, leaping from natural to supernatural explanations. Brent’s a good co-host, and it’s kind of fun. It’s fine. If Ryan were actually human, doing this for his actual job, it might be enough. </p><p>But of course, he isn’t. </p><p>He doesn’t give up on Shane. He drops the influence, since it clearly doesn’t work on Shane for some reason, and instead engineers opportunities to run into Shane periodically around the office. He spends some time getting to know him, building up friendly rapport. It’s the most he’s talked to a human in over a century, and he finds it weirdly enjoyable.  </p><p>Everyone else at BuzzFeed is much more susceptible to Ryan’s influence. After just a few episodes, Brent is on edge, stressed about his workload, doubting whether he can carry on. Ryan suggests he needs some time off. At the same time, he goes over Brent’s head, advising upper management that he needs someone a bit more dynamic, someone who’ll <em> commit to the bit, </em>which is a very useful phrase he’s learned recently. </p><p>It works — before long, Brent is on vacation, and Shane is seated next to him in the bare studio they call a set, ready to react to Ryan’s story about five missing and possibly murdered children. </p><p>“Thanks so much for filling in,” Ryan tells him before they start, the way a friend would, so that when he asks if Shane will do it again, it’ll sound more natural.</p><p>“No problem,” Shane replies, genuine enough that Ryan hesitates. Ryan never hesitates. </p><p>“Okay, we’re ready,” says a member of the crew before he can get the question out. </p><p>They shoot the episode. It goes so well that Ryan doesn’t end up asking. </p><p>Which works out just fine, because when Brent quits for good a week later, Shane volunteers. </p><hr/><p>His plan is simple: gain Shane’s friendship, act terrified enough to convince Shane that the paranormal is real— real enough to bargain with, anyway. When Shane offers himself to the forces threatening his friend, Ryan takes Shane’s soul Below. Game, set, match.</p><p>Ryan’s out of practice at playing human, but he’s laid the groundwork over the last several months, and he knows a lot about fear. He knows his chosen face is expressive enough to show a nuanced performance, as he did in the Zodiac killer episode, pretending to see shadows until Brent finally made fun of him for it. </p><p>But Shane brings a completely different energy to their conversations. He’s charming and playful, never quite serious. Ryan laughs a lot more than he thought was possible before he began this journey. Something in Shane sparks in Ryan’s presence — his soul gleams with the recognition that he’s doing good work. And Ryan feels good about that. He tries to analyze the feeling, but it resists scrutiny; it’s good, plain and simple the way goodness never is for a demon. All this to say, their interactions — their friendship — makes Ryan think, again, that if he were human, this might be enough. </p><p>Which is ridiculous, and, frankly, a pointless thing to think about.</p><p>Stepping onto sacred ground brings his mission back into focus. He’s infused himself with an extra bit of magic, something the research team Below cooked up for him, so the priest can look into his eyes without seeing his true nature, but he’s still nervous; Father Thomas has known and conquered many of Ryan’s kind. </p><p>Speaking with the priest lights a fire under his skin. It reminds Ryan what he is: he’s never been human and never will be.</p><p>The magic holds. Ryan steps back into the sunlight with a bottle of water he can barely hang onto and the confidence that the cameras will show nothing but a scared human desperate for reassurance. </p><p>He switches out the holy water for a fresh bottle at the first opportunity, which comes only a minute later when Shane gets distracted by a bird. Tossing the full bottle into a recycling bin — he may be evil, but that’s no reason to destroy the Earth — gives Ryan a perverse sense of pleasure. He’d skip for joy if he could.</p><p>Shane turns the camera back on him after the bird flies away, and Ryan schools his features into something resembling normal. Shane grins at him and asks how he’s feeling.</p><p>“Good,” Ryan tells him truthfully. “Ready for what comes next.”</p><p>“Then let’s go, time to bust some ghosts!” </p><hr/><p>Their investigation at the Winchester house brings back memories of haunting Shane’s apartment. Stray spirits hanging around the mansion follow them at first, curious, until Ryan shoos them away. He wants to do this himself. </p><p>But Shane says that shadows are just shadows, and noises are just bats. After two hours, Ryan gives up on trying to scare him. He locks himself in the little room right after Shane does, and when Shane knocks on the wall, his laughter is surprising and real. </p><p>When they get to the basement, it gets even better. To Ryan’s complete surprise, Shane actually manages to trick him, appearing as if from nowhere with a lie about his mic dying. Ryan jumps, playing it up a little for the cameras, and they bicker about it as they head down the hall.</p><p>“I really didn’t think it was gonna work,” Shane admits, finally giving up on the flimsy excuse that scaring Ryan was an accident. “Then I thought you were gonna have a heart attack.”</p><p>“I nearly did,” Ryan lies. </p><p>Shane laughs. “Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “Let me know if you never want me to do that again.”</p><p>“It’s okay, I was just surprised,” Ryan tells him, which is the truth— though how the Hell Shane pulled it off is a mystery that’ll bother him for a while. </p><p>“Just a fun thing to do,” Shane goes on. He waves his hand, the shiny face of his watch glinting in the thin light. “You know, because all of this is baloney.”</p><p>“You think that now,” says Ryan, choosing to leave the rest of his threat unspoken. He has a feeling it would fall on deaf ears anyway. </p><hr/><p>After a tour of the least haunted place in Mexico, where Ryan learns some interesting things about Shane and his favorite arachnids, they head to a little house in Kansas. There are no stray spirits here, no massive spiders, but there is a demon. </p><p>Sallie isn’t her real name, obviously, but it’s what she answers to. Ryan is familiar with her work, though they’ve never met face-to-face. She follows more or less the same script as Ryan, after all — she’s tormented many husbands in pursuit of their wives, and most of the time, she gets what she wants. So Ryan is sure to be firm with her as soon as he steps through the door. </p><p><em> Leave him to me, </em>he tells her. </p><p><em> I know, I know, </em> she replies, as petulant as the child she pretends to be. <em> Even if it weren’t for your sigil, I can smell you on him a mile away. He’s yours. </em></p><p>This gives Ryan pause. <em> What’s that supposed to mean? </em></p><p>But Sallie is done talking. She shrugs and vanishes into the wall. </p><p>“You okay there, buddy?” Shane asks, noting the way that Ryan seems to be staring at nothing.</p><p>Ryan fakes being startled, which gets a chuckle out of Shane. </p><p>“Come on, man, the <em> investigator </em> will be here in a minute,” he adds. Shane’s tone leaves no doubt in Ryan’s mind as far as his opinion of ghost hunting as a career. “You gotta keep it together at least a little.”</p><p>“I hate this place,” says Ryan, with a visible shudder.</p><p>“I know,” says Shane, patting his shoulder. “Only eight more hours to go!”</p><p>Ryan doesn’t show it on camera, but a spot on his shoulder tingles for the rest of the night, in the exact size and shape of Shane’s hand. </p><hr/><p>“If you want to eat my heart,” Shane says on the screen, “turn that light on.” </p><p>Ryan pauses the video, turns to Oriax. “See?” he says. “I turned the light on, he said I could!”</p><p>But Oriax shakes her head again. In the firelight, the tips of her horns glint with someone else’s blood. “I’m sorry, but it’s not enough.”</p><p>“Not enough?” Disbelieving, Ryan skips ahead in the footage. “Then how about this? I mean, this has gotta be a deal, right?”</p><p>Oriax watches the tape and frowns, unimpressed. “No,” she says flatly. </p><p>“Why not?” Ryan can’t help but demand, regardless of the respect he owes her.</p><p><em> “Rock ‘n’ roll, buckaroo </em> is not legally binding,” she says, her eyes flashing dangerously. </p><p>“Oh, come on,” Ryan protests, with an exasperated sigh. “The subtext is clear, I mean, it couldn’t be any clearer!”</p><p>“You know it’s not enough,” she cuts him off, quiet but deadly, “or else you wouldn’t be here, yōkai.”</p><p>A ripple runs through him. It’s an insult to identify a demon by his class rather than his name, and it is never done unintentionally; Oriax is reminding him that, with a word, she could destroy him. He dips his horns at once, not begging forgiveness, exactly, but requesting patience, mercy. Two things that Oriax is not known for.</p><p>“Appeal denied,” she concludes. “I uphold the decision of the earlier court: your claim to the soul of Shane Alexander Madej is invalid.” She waves her claws at the screen, which promptly disappears.</p><p>Ryan sighs. “Understood,” he says to the floor. Feeling himself dismissed, he turns to leave, but Oriax calls him back. </p><p>“We have our eye on you,” she warns. “You would do well to remember that you are not this human, this <em> Ryan Bergera </em> you’ve created. You are not of the mortal world, and should we feel you are getting too attached, we can and will withdraw you. By force if necessary.”</p><p>Ryan nods, dares to glance up when Oriax doesn’t speak again. She shoos him away with another wave of her black claws, and Ryan exits the room. </p><p><em> Attached, </em> he hears again in his ear as he begins his return ascent to Earth. Attached? He’s not attached. He’s a demon. He’s on a mission, and he wants to see it succeed, that’s all. He’s committed.</p><p>He emerges from Hell in an alley behind a CVS. The California sun is high overhead, the city alive with human voices. His phone, having found a signal again, chirps in his pocket, and he pulls it out to find a message from Shane, wondering if he wants to go see a movie tonight. Ryan smiles and answers in the affirmative right away. </p><p>He chuckles to himself as he moves seamlessly back into the human world. Attached. Sure.</p>
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